


Mistletoe

by stickyrice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Mollcroft, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickyrice/pseuds/stickyrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just something to get into the holiday spirit.</p><p>I'll be home for Christmas ... with mistletoe and ... Santa!?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> ... It was only supposed to be a small 100 word drabble ... but it really did get away from me.

It was Christmas Eve; well the very early AM of Christmas morning. Molly was tucked away in bed, having since long come home from the now annual Christmas party that Mrs. Hudson now held over at Baker Street.  
  
It would seem that this year everyone seemed to be paired off; John and Sherlock (finally, all that sexual tension and unrequited love was even making her feel sorry for those two poor sods), Lestrade and Anthea (she didn't see that one coming, but if there is one thing to be said about Lestrade was that he was persistent, and they did make a cute couple), and even Mrs. Hudson had a beau, that nice man who ran the counter down at Speedy's.  
  
And yet again this year she was alone, although it was not for a lack of trying. Mycroft had been away in America for the past week, Anthea had stayed behind in his stead to be the British Government's eyes and ear while he couldn't physically be here; even thousands of miles away and with only a mobile phone and laptop the man could effectively run the country, but I digress.  
  
He had been away in America the past week and was supposed to be home today, but there had been a terrible storm approaching and as a precaution, his plane had diverted to Iceland and been grounded.  
  
He had called her earlier that evening and was so very apologetic, it was adorable really. She could even imagine the frown of his brow; the little crease that he gets between his eyes; and the purse of his pouted lips. Yes, very adorable indeed.  
  
She had told him that she had understood; she told him that he couldn't control everything, the weather included. And she couldn't help but laugh at his grumbled reply.  
  
"One day, one day"  
  
She had tried to reassure him that it was alright and that she would see him as soon as he got back, but even she could hear the disappointment in her own voice and words.  
  
It was going to be their first Christmas together. They had been together for the last 5 months; he had been a sympathetic ear, well an ear during her guilt ridden time when Sherlock was supposedly dead, and from there a tentative friendship grew.  
  
It was about 3 weeks since Sherlock's returned that their relationship changed. They still met weekly for tea or a meal (at either of their places or a restaurant) or just an evening of conversation.  
  
Although at first the man appeared to be cold and unfeeling, he was actually rather warm and animated once you gained his trust and respect that is. They would talk for hours about everything and nothing; at first conversation would always stray to their common denominator, Sherlock, but once they both got past their insecurities, conversation flowed easily.  
  
It was a wet Thursday evening, and Molly was due at his townhouse for dinner. Stepping out of the hospital, the rain was coming down in torrents, but it was a warm July day and the rain on her skin felt cool and refreshing. So with a large grin on her face she practically skipped all the way to his place, taking mind to jump into almost every puddle she saw.  
  
At the sound of the soft tapping at his door, he turned the stove off and dried his hands on the dishcloth over his shoulder, before tossing it onto the counter and going to open the door for her.  
  
He was greeted to a sight that made his mouth go dry, his tongue turn to led, and his eyes widen slightly in shock.  
  
Standing before him stood Molly, her cloths sodden and clinging to her body; outlining the delicious curves of her body that he had failed to notice beneath her thick, woollen jumpers or blindingly colourful shapeless outfits.  
  
Her bright teal top clung to her, accenting the shape and roundness of her breasts. It stuck flush to her stomach, only fuelling his imagination of what her tantalizing flesh might be like underneath. Her otherwise flowing boot cut dress pants, soaked through, giving way to her trim waist and shapely thighs.  
  
For a moment all thought left his head and he knew that he was staring, but he couldn't; wouldn't take his eyes off of her. As he took in her body, there was a sudden rush of blood and pure lust that rushed to his groin that left him slightly dizzy and breathless.  
  
Clearing his throat, his gaze immediately relocated itself to stare hard at the floor as he opened the door wider, taking a half step to slightly hide his traitorous body behind.  
  
Closing the door behind her, he turned to face her once more, almost certain that his body was once again under his control.  
  
"You are absolutely soaking wet" at his own words his minds eyes could only envision _her withering beneath him as he learned her most intimate parts; the feel, the taste of her soaking wet...._ Right; his physical body may be under control but his mind didn't seem to have gotten the message.  
  
 _Pull it together Croft!_ He admonished himself.  
  
His eyes met hers; they were the soft colour of cinnamon; sparkling and playful. Her cheeks were flushed, and a large grin was spread across her face; he could not think of anyone who had looked happier than she did at this moment, and he could feel his lips curving up into a smile, her happiness infectious.  
  
"Er what I mean is, you must be very uncomfortable. I'm sure that I could find something for you to wear while I put your things in the dryer."  
  
He motion for her to follow him up the stairs.  
  
"Where in god’s name was your brolly, you daft woman" he said teasingly over his shoulder as they climbed the stairs.  
  
Her tinkling laughter rung out light and carefree.  
  
"I use to love playing in the rain as a little girl. It made me ... Happy" she said slightly wistfully.  
  
As they approached what was presumably his room, she hesitated slightly before crossing the threshold; she had seen and been into every part of his home, his study, the library, even stayed a night or few in his guest room, but never his bedroom.  
  
As she crossed the threshold, she something subtle shift between them. With a shrug of her shoulders, she put the feeling to the back of her mind, to be thought about at a later time; she was in a rather good mood and didn't want to spend their time together preoccupied with something elusive.  
  
Following the sound of his rummaging, she found him in his walk in closet. Casting her eyes around the rather large room, she couldn't help but let out a low whistle, her eyes large.  
  
"You have more clothes, shoes" she pauses to turn her head to take in the far wall, "and accessories than I do!" She exclaimed, as she couldn't help but reach out and finger the sleeve of a suit made of the softest wool she had ever seen.  
  
A blush rose up and stained his cheeks, "One of my vices I'm afraid" he replied as he handed her a pair of black track pants and long sleeve shirt.  
  
She raised a curious brow at the outfit, it did not look like something that one would find among polished shoes and bespoke suits.  
  
"For when I ... Go running" he said, his face scrunched up as if there words themselves were distasteful.  
  
He motioned to the en suite, "There are towels in the cupboard. I'll just be downstairs, call me if you require anything more"  
  
With her nod, he took his leave.  
  
Closing the door behind her, she took in the large en suite; it was almost as big as her bedroom! Minor position in the British government indeed she thought with an amused scoff.  
  
Laying the cloths on the counter, her eyes ran over the neat and precise placement of things. Trailing her hand along the marble counter, she picked up the small bottle of cologne, uncapped, and gave it a sniff. As she inhaled its scent her eyes fluttered closed, and a soft breathy sigh escaped her lips. _What she wouldn't give to bury her nose in the crook of his neck to see if he taste as good as he smelled._  
  
Her eyes flew open at her train of thought; startled at where her mind was taking her. Quickly capping the bottle she put it back in its place.  
  
 _Stop being silly Molly, you are just his friend, nothing more so get a grip girl!_ She thought to herself as she changed into the cloths he had given her.  
  
Looking into the mirror, she twisted her hair up into a messy bun, tendrils of hair falling loose and framing her face; _besides he is Mr. Cool, Mr. Smooth ... And you are not._  
  
He busied himself down in the kitchen as he waited for her; absently pouring them both a glass of wine as the thought of a half naked Molly ran in a continuous loop in his mind.  
  
He was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of bare feet padding into the kitchen.  
  
Her makeup (even though lightly applied) had been washed away, hear hair an untidy messy bun at the nape of her neck, the trousers too long and rolled up to expose her bare feet, and the shirtsleeves hanging long at her sides swallowing up her hands. He thought to himself, he had never seen anyone look as beautiful as she does right now dressed in his cloths with her hair dripping wet.  
  
 _... The only thing that could top this would to see her without any cloths on at all...mind out of the gutter Croft!_  
  
 _Look at him, all domestic cooking me dinner, a woman could get use to this. Mmmm and he looks delicious too would love to taste him... I mean it, it, dinner it, looks delicious._ She could practically hear rational side of the brain Molly groan and slam the preverbal door, just about done, since no one was listening to her anyways.  
  
They stood there awkwardly for a moment both lost to their own salacious inner thoughts.  
  
Clearing his throat, as if to clear the thoughts from his mind he offered her a glass of wine, one that she was more than happy to accept. With a bit of liquid courage running their blood, they settled into their comfortable routine that they had developed, albeit punctuated with more undisguised heated looks and lingering, caressing touches.  
  
After dinner they settled in his media room (god’s most people just had a telly in their living room, but this man had a whole room dedicated to electronics, and he didn’t even use them!) to watch crap telly, something that she had somehow during their acquaintance forced upon him. At first he had only relented under great duress, but now there was only mild, half hearted protest.

He loved to watch her in these moments; the way her eyes would light up as she would relate some part of the show that he had missed, as if he really cared; the way she would get excited and repeatedly touch his arm, knee or shoulder; and the way she would sometimes fall asleep, her head resting on his shoulder.

Usually they would sit on either ends of the sofa and would gradually move closer to one another throughout the evening until there was about a half a cushion’s width between them, they would never touch, but the nearness of the other was something that was reassuring. However, tonight with numerous glasses of wine running through their veins and a tension that hung heavy between them, certain liberties were taken on behalf of both parties, and it wasn’t enough anymore to just be near.

At first they had just sat close together; their thighs touching and if they moved just so, their shoulders and arms would brush against each other. As whatever mindless program continued, she would bring her feet up and tuck them under her legs leaning into him slightly, and he would bring his arm up and rest it along the back of the sofa. Now if she felt his fingers lightly trace a pattern on her upper arm and should she wasn’t going to say anything, and if she just so happened so snuggle into him even further, he wasn’t going to mention it either.

The warmth of her body against his stirred something in him that he refused to acknowledge before, but with her so close, he could not help but notice it.

His frame, so solid and strong against her was a reassuring comfort; she felt a level of calm and peace that she had never felt with anyone else.

By the end of the program, she had fallen asleep, her head having found its way onto his lap. Stroking back her hair from her face gently, he lightly shook her shoulders and called her name softly.

“Hummm” she hummed as her eyes fluttered open; she was met with his stormy grey/blue eyes.

As she realized where she was, she immediately sprang up, and effectively toppled herself to the floor.

“Umpf” she her muffled sound as she hit the floor.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her predicament; his rich tone wrapping around her, making her scowl at him, although a small smile lurked just right below the surface.

“Ha ha ha, laugh it up mister” came her grumbled retort.

“I do apologize, please accept my sincerest apologies” he said with a cheeky smile, not at all sorry.

A throw pillow came sailing through the air, which he ducked flawlessly and only served to make him laugh all the more. Reaching out a hand he helped her to her feet.

“Come along my dear, it’s been a late night”

“Yeah” she said and she tried to stifle a yawn as she followed him down the hall to the front door.

Slipping into the sleeves of her coat that he held open for her, she thanked him quietly before turning to face him once more.

“Same time next week, my place?” she asked biting her lip with slight nervousness.

“Of course” he affirmed softly with a nod of his head.

“I will see you then Molly, good night” he said as he lowered his head to hers.

They had come to end their evenings with a chaste, friendly kiss on the cheek, something that she had initiated one night, quite spontaneously she would add, when the idea of “scary Mycroft Holmes the most dangerous man” gave way to the idea of “caring, friendly Mycroft Holmes one of her best friends”.

She almost groaned aloud as his lips neared her cheek; how she longed to feel them brush against her; to feel if they were as soft as they looked. Steeling her courage, for once she was not going to wait for things to happen to her, she was going to make her own chances. At the last moment she titled her head minutely to the side and was rewarded with the brush of his lips against hers.

And from there, the rest they say, is history.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
There was a dull thud followed by a few muffled curses from the living room that roused her from her sleep. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she stilled and waited to see if it was just all part of her over active imagination.  
  
The sound of the crunch of tinsel and tinkling of the small silver bells on the Christmas tree that she and Mycroft (him begrudgingly and her quite happily) had put up, greeted her ears, and for a moment she was frozen in fright at the thought of someone breaking into her home. However as she listened, she heard the distinct voice of her grumbling (for a lack of better words, in his opinion, she rather liked the word thank you very much) boyfriend.  
  
Excitement thrummed through her body and a wide smile broke out across her face as she flung back the covers to jump out of bed and race to the living room, albeit almost falling face first onto the carpet when she made her leap out of bed and her limbs were still tangled in the covers.  
  
Skidding to a stop behind her sofa in sock clad feet, she gripped its back, least she launch herself at him and bowl him over.  
  
He stood there in front of her fireplace, untangling himself from strings of tinsel and bells, brushing off dark grey ... What appeared to be soot from his cloths.  
  
“Next year, note to self have Molly not put the tree up in front of her fire place, and less tinsel and bells! And reiterate to that damned man that I could very well use the front door next time. Chimneys! He should know how filthy they were, like honestly. This soot is never going to get out of this suit, there goes another one”. He muttered to himself.  
  
She couldn't help it; a giggle escaped her lips. He really was adorable, who would have thought Mr. Iceman, Mr. British Government himself had such an adorable pout and could sulk like a 3 year old.  
  
"Molly!" He exclaimed as he spun around, his face smudged with dark grey streaks, and his hair a shade darker from all of the dirt.  
  
"Er Happy Christmas Molly. I meant to surprise you ... Surprise" he said with a shrug of his shoulders and a sheepish look on his face.  
  
Grinning she bound over to him and threw her arms around his neck, crushing him in a hug.  
  
"Control the weather indeed! However did you get here, not that I am not happy to see you, but what happened about being grounded because of the storm" she asked as she vaguely noticed a blanket of white falling outside the window to the side of them.  
  
He slid his arms around her waist to bring her flush against him; his clasped settling on the dip at the small of her back.  
  
"Well I knew how important this was to you, spending our first Christmas together that is. I know you said it was ok and I believe you, but the disappointment in your voice..." He shook his head gently.  
  
"I couldn't bare your disappointment Molly. So I have this ... Friend who was on his way here anyways and he owed me a favour so we were able to catch a lift with him. And ... Well here I am" he told her with a soft smile.  
  
"A friend? And how did you get in here anyways, I didn't hear the door open. And what is still stuff all over you?" She asked, her brows climbing ever higher with her mounting curiosity; she take a small half step back from him so she could better take in his appearance.  
  
"Um... Well that would be soot from your fireplace because evidently Father Christmas thought it would be oh so hilarious to send me down the chimney rather than the from door. 'Get into the spirit of Christmas' he says. I can do that just fine walking thank you very much. We really ought to get your chimney cleaned Molly dearest; it's dreadfully filthy." He explained to her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  
  
Her eyes grew larger at every word that passed through his lips. Holding her hands up in a halting gesture, his words died as he took in her startled look.  
  
"Something the matter Molly" he asked her genuine concern in his tone.  
  
"Father Christmas, as in Santa Clause brought you home to me because he owed you a favour in, I presume his sleigh flown by reindeer, and proceeded to shove you down my chimney because he thought it would be amusing." She gave a short summary of what she understood, or at least thought she understood.  
  
"... Yes" he answered in a tone as if explaining something to a small child.  
  
"Oh ok just checking" she said nodding her head, a skeptical look in her eyes that showed her disbelief. _He must really have been over worked on this past trip to be this delusional, he probably just needs some rest and a good meal to be right as rain... Or maybe he was drugged or something,_ she thought.  
  
Suddenly a voice from above broke her inner musings; a jolly voice that was laced with laughter and joy... The kind of voice that she always imagined Father Christmas would have. A head popped out of the fireplace, and she was greeted with the face of Father Christmas hanging upsides down in her chimney.  
  
"You were a very good girl this year Molly Hooper, exceptionally really ,since you have to deal with both those Holmes boys on a regular basis. Right terrors they are, needs someone like you and that Dr. Watson to keep them in line they do" he said with affection.  
  
With a grin, a wink, and a ho ho ho Merry Christmas the head disappeared back up the chimney, and the sounds of jingle bells and reindeer hooves could be heard above.  
  
Molly's jaw was hanging slack, speechless; her eyes as large as saucers; and Mycroft need to pull her close least she collapse from shock.  
  
"... But ... He... You... What?!" She stammered.  
  
With a chuckle that sounded like warm, smooth honey, he gave a small nod above their heads. Looking up there was a small glow of twinkling light as a crisp green and white sprig of mistletoe appeared overhead.  
  
"Happy Christmas Molly love" he whispered, his hot breath against her lips sending a shiver down her spine as he dipped his head to brush a feather light kiss to her upturned lips.


End file.
